The roaring sun shone its warm glowing rays on the large three story house, it was the sort that was initially seen as a plantation house, high steel gates surrounded the land, gates that made the boy within the home feel as if he was a prisoner, safe and yet confined. He would not speak out and say that he was a victim, that he was a poor pitiful lost soul that was tormented through his childhood. It was simple enough, his parents passed away when he was still a child, that was the day that more than his life changed, everything about him changed. How he felt. What he did. What he wanted and where he wanted to go. Many people tried to talk to him, assure him that time heals all wounds, that he will still have a grand life ahead of him. One day he would be happy again, not everything was dark and dreary as the cool rain that flowed down the day that his parents were laid to rest.

For the first couple of years, the boy was quiet, subdued and kept to himself. His new adoptive parents, old friends of the family, a well known man of the church and his socialite wife, took him in, wanted nothing more for the boy than to help him in this time of need and fulfill their own needs of a child. It was not a horrible home, the child was not abused in most manners that one would think, not physical, not even verbal, but it was more lack of emotions towards him that flowed through to him, and as he grew, more than his adoptive parents could see that the boy was different. Never was he the one to run and play like the other children, he was content to hold a sketch book and pencil. So quiet, he hardly opened his mouth or let his wants be known, if he could be alone, that was what he cherished. If he happened to fall, he did not cry out, did not ask for his hurt be kissed or bandaged, instead he acted as if it never happened, something that later he would be called numb, cold, and heartless. They were correct, he was numb, numb from most emotions, he never felt love, happiness, most things did not make him smile.

Teenage years, the young man. Everything was wrong, nothing was ever right. He could try to do as everyone wanted and still it would never be enough. That he could paint the most prefect of portraits and still, his adoptive father would wave him off, tell him that it was nothing more than a silly hobby and should be stopped at once. The young man needed a real career, something that could get him a good name, not as some artiste. That his parents left him their life-savings, and it would keep him well and fed for more than his own life, was no excuse to be nothing short of what his adoptive father wanted of him.

London sat at his desk, fingers still holding the pencil tightly, so tight that it was beginning to make his knuckles turn white. Light green eyes kept to the sketch book in front of him. This was his room, up high in the attic, where he kept away from everyone, but his father had the habit of climbing the stairs and giving his son a what for, when he thought that London was not doing or acting as he demanded. This time was absolutely no different. London didn't dance with the girl that was chosen for him, some big "what to do" party for all the "who is whos", and London refused to dance with the daughter of another family friend, to be set up, was more like it and London was not having it. Instead he wound up in a scuffle with a few of the other blokes there, not even that got a true rise out of London. A busted mouth and black eye, hardly noticed and not even felt once the slight sting dulled.

He did not have to look up to know that his father was upset, that he was standing mere inches away and raging mad. Not that he feared being struck, maybe if he was, London could feel something, anything, but as it was, that was not something he expected of his father. "I know what you are going to say and I don't know what you want me to say, Father. All I can do, is say that I didn't want to dance with her and be done with it. Cannot change what happened tonight. I didn't try to get into a fight, it happened. I can apologise to you for the rest of the night and it will never be enough, I don't know what you want from me anymore." Nothing spoken back, London turned to get a glimpse of his retreating father and sighed heavily. "You want me to be perfect and I never will be." It was the same thing London whispered as his father left the room, time and time again. It was habit forming, those words always in his mind. He would and could never be perfect.

Pushing away from the desk, he slid up from the chair and walked over to his door, slamming it shut and placing the latch on it. No more for tonight, he would rather be alone and left as such. Most would say he was the average teenager, not getting along with his parents, getting into scraps with other kids, not doing as he was told. If they dug deeper, they might just be surprised. "I have to get out of here." Muttered while he strode over to the window and glanced out. Many of nights he thought about leaving, thought about the day that he could pack up his belongings and be done with it all. He did not know where he would go, but it did not matter, away was good enough.

Hinges creaked as he gave a push for the window, letting in the cool night air. London had some fond memories, not everything about his growing up was awful, it was not even that it was awful, it was that it was at times so void of emotion on his part. The time that he climbed the large oak tree out in the yard and fell just as hard, it knocked the wind out of him, sure, but the pain of a broken arm did not seem to phase him. His friends all laughing and running around, drinking and having grand times while London sat in background, sketching away and not joining in with the actives, usually all his friends grew accustomed to it and left London alone, much like everyone else would. And if anyone called him pitiful or sad, well, that could earn a fist. London was perfectly fine with how he was, he was flawed in so many ways, not perfect, not the ideal, and he was fine with it.

Deep intake of that night air. "Yes, need to get the hell out of here." London shook his head and glanced up at the night sky, twinkling of stars, the pale moon, clouds hovered around it, threatening to swallow it whole. "Screw it." Still having been dressed from the fancy dress party, London had only taken off his shoes, when arriving home, and was still in the tux that his mother had picked out, either way, he was throwing his legs over the windowsill and climbing out, moving around the corner of the roof until he could climb and drop down enough to get to the second story railing and finally to the ground below. He needed to give that one kid another visit. If it wasn't for the busted lip and bruised eye, maybe his father would not have been so displeased with him, he would use that as the excuse, yes, to go bust that kid's face up in the same manner.

Perhaps tonight, London might feel something after all.

"Session twelve, patient name is London Demery, seventeen years old." Slender fingers placed the recorder down on the table that sat between herself and the boy laying on the couch. He often laid like that, curled on his side, as if he was taunting her, playing with her. The way he curled his hand under his chin, green eyes stared right at her and at times she felt as if he was looking right through her. "London, let us begin." Her voice was everything a therapist should be: gentle, kind, understanding. Sometimes though, she found herself fidgeting a little. Something about him made her uneasy yet she couldn't put her finger on it. Not yet. Of course others through the office saw him as just another little rich boy with far too many problems and parents that wanted him corrected. However, she believed there was more to London.

"Begin." Careless smile graced London's face, his shoulders rose for a noncommittal shrug. "But, I have a feeling you will hear all the same things as before. I am here because my parents are not happy with me. They want me to stop getting into fights and stop being friends with Sebastian. I think that is pretty much it, yes? Stop painting, behave myself, among other things." London lifted some on the couch, it was one of those leather ones, the creaking sound every time he moved, he enjoyed making it creak as the therapist tried to speak with him. He knew he made her uncomfortable and exploited it when he could. Maybe get lucky, perhaps she would drop him and he could get out of this weekly inconvenience.

The therapist exhaled a breath, a sigh of sorts. London was already on the defensive, it would be another long hour. Her hand reached down, adjusting her skirt and she had not realised she did it until London was smiling at her. Eyes darted away from the boy's face to glance at the clock, long hour, very long hour. Another exhale of breath and she turned her gaze back to London. "What happened last night that had your father so upset, London? Would you care to tell me about it?" The call from London's father had been interesting. He may not have been yelling in the phone but the tone in his voice left nothing to the imagination. He was beside himself and he had laid it square in her lap to fix his son.

London's mouth curled for a grin, it even reached his eyes, dimpled cheeks were not far behind. "Last night." He sat up on the couch, more creaking of leather and his hands trailed over his knees to rest there, tapping of fingers there, leaning forward, light green eyes narrowed. "My father walked in on me with Sebastian and Tia. That is what happened. We were in the pool house, at first it was playing around in the pool, you know? We were all there, Katie, Sebastian, Tia and me. Few other friends left early, but it's usually the four of us that are around each other the most. Things happen, Tia and Sebastian started making out like they usually do, then Sebastian reached over and put his hand on my leg. We kissed a few times before, trying things out, but last night happened to be more. You do not really want to hear what else happened, do you? My father was not happy to see it, so whey do you want to hear it?"

There was another let out breath, she had not realised she was holding that breath deep on her lungs, listening to London, hearing about the night before. "I will listen to anything you would like to say, London. That is what I do, listen, try to help you in any way that I can." She was beginning to feel uneasy again, she could tell by his smile that he knew it, the way he looked at her and his head tilting to the side. Her eyes drifted down to glance at his hands, fingers continued to tap on his knees, but then one hand began to move, caressing at the fabric of his pants and climbing upward. She turned away. "London. Tell me why you believe that your family would care for you to not be friends with Sebastian and Tia."

"That is a pretty easy answer." London watched how she was beginning to become unsettled in her large chair, not so high and mighty today. He never did understand any of this, he was not going to be fixed, he was himself and finally he realised that he was perfectly fine being the way he was. Not some therapist in a tight skirt and tidy hair could stop it. "My father caught us after we all enjoyed each other. And he was probably pretty upset that Sebastian and I were still on one another when he walked in. Katie did try to warn us. You should have heard Tia giggle, it was a truly wonderful night. I am not going to apologise, I am not going to walk out of here and feel ashamed of myself for what I did because I plan on doing it again, and again, and again.." Out from his lips came a good chuckled breath. "Last night, I had things done to me and did things that most people like you can only imagine, dream of, wish for.. that is what happened last night. Next time I can tape it and show it to you, how is that? Sebastian would probably like that. I believe I would too."

Hands pushed at the leather couch and London lifted himself from it. Noting the way she leaned back in her chair as he did, steps took him to her chair and his hand rested on the back of it as he brought his face down close to hers. Taking in a deep inhale, he let it out slow and grinned, those dimples appearing again. "Nice session, had fun. Next time wear a shorter skirt." London smiled, his hand trailing over the back of the chair before he walked over to the door and pulled it open. "Who knows, maybe for the next session, I may just give you what you want, and do not worry, you will enjoy it." Door shut behind him, his stride taking him through the hallway and pushing the button on the elevator. As the doors slid open, he heard her door, heard the click of her heels behind him and he smiled more to himself, casual step inside the elevator and turned to rest his shoulder to the side, careless press of a button and the doors slid closed just as her lips parted to say something.

"This is not funny in the slightest, David. Open the door!" Hands pushed against the unbudging door, creaks of protest to the weight put against it his only reward for the effort. The chair lodged outside held firm keeping the door from swinging open. London heaved out a breath, shoved himself away from the door to slam his back against the rear wall, body slowly sliding down until he was sitting on the spartan time-worn bench. London's voice came out a low growl. "Let me out of here." His face turned toward the small screen built into the thin wall that separated the cramped room from the other side of the confessional. London's hand rose to wipe the droplets of sweat from his brow. "I do not want to make a scene but I will knock the damn door down if you do not open it."

A door opened but not the one London wanted to open. After the soft rustle of fabric and the firmer sound of shoes on the wooden floor, the door closed again. The young man seated himself carefully in the priest side of the confessional. He held his back stiff, his heart pounding. A brief glimpse would give only the barest of silhouette's through that small dark screen. When David spoke his voice was calm and soft. "I'll open it but tell me first, how long has it been since your last confession, London?" The silhouette remained in profile, David's eyes did not look at the screen through which he might catch a glimpse of London. His hands rested on his lap, fingers curled around a book held tightly. When an answer did not come quickly, David pressed on in that same soft tone. "You know it's easier to carry a burden when you share it. Talk London. Tell me about everything that is happening."

London leaned so he could put his hand on the screen. Initially, the only answer that came was a frustrated growl. "I already have to go see a shrink to talk about my feelings, why are you doing this now? Did he put you up to this?" He pressed harder on the screen, tempting fate to let his hand go through.

That question got David's attention. His head turned, eyes darting to the vague outline that was London on the other side of the screen. David could see London's hand and the way it pressed against the screen as if trying to press through it. David felt himself speaking familiar words, tones still calm and even. The cadence of his words almost lent the idea that he was reciting words he was familiar with hearing week after week after week. "Confess and it shall be forgiven." David swallowed, eyes moving away from the screen and London to focus on the door of the compartment where he sat. What had started out as a way to try to have a conversation was growing uncomfortable now. Did anyone put him up to this? His teeth caught at his lip for a nibble before David found his voice again. "You need this, London. We all do. It's the way to peace and salvation. Confess and repent everything you have done. All will be forgiven." His voice almost wavered on the last syllable.

London let his hand fall away from the screen and flew off the bench again. He turned in the cramped quarters once then slammed his hand up against the screen with a short burst of frustrated energy. The sound of his hand connecting with the screen was short and sharp. He held his hand again pressed against the mesh, his face contorted into a sneer as he narrowed his eyes at David through the mesh. "You think that you and them can save me? That I am sick and need to be healed? I am living my life, and all of you are telling me it is wrong. That I am sick, perverted and need help. Who all knows now? He has kept it so well hidden what I have done and continue to do. You really believe that if I sit here and confess everything to you that I will walk out healed? Let me out, David, or so help me.."

The sharp sound of London's hand on the screen caused David to jump and suck in a breath. Eyes darted briefly toward the screen then back to the door when London started speaking. Through the tirade David remained frozen face-forward but his eyes were closed. The words he heard almost shocked him but then, not really. Perhaps it was more confirmation than anything else. He'd needed to hear these things from London himself instead of over the dinner table whisperings with the tsking tongues of his parents. David's breath caught inward at the threat. So help him what?

London's fingers moved, nails scratching across the screen until his fingers balled into a fist. He heaved out a heavy breath as he pulled his fist back. He had the power in him to break the screen, it was not that strong and London had the added energy of frustration and anger on his side. London would probably even be able to reach David's face on the other side of it considering how flimsy the mesh really was; it was for show, after all was it not? Step in, murmur, weep, pray and leave all better. Right? Hardly. London let his cocked arm swing forward, fist dead on toward the screen. When his fist suddenly stopped, the screen was still intact with London's fist wavering less than an inch from it. For a long moment the plateau held before he dropped his hand and moved away with a frustrated sound. Again he moved to the farthest wall in the cramped compartment and pressed his back against it although this time he did not let himself sit. This was not happening. He brought both his hands over his face for several moment before letting them fall to his sides. Fingers tapped the wall behind him and his tone changed. "I am tempted by flesh, David." London's voice lowered, light green eyes straining to see through the screen in an effort to see David's face. "Seduced by touch. Tempted by other men. Is that what you want to hear?"

There came a brief pause and David could imagine London smiling in that short silence before London continued, "I enjoyed every second I touched him and your brother cried for more." A short burst of laughter came from London. "I can tell you every single lurid detail if you like?"

David's jaw tightened. He was not enjoying this activity at all. His head turned a little allowing his eyes to sweep toward the screen. Fingers again tightened around the book in his lap. With the screen between them, the finer nuances of his expression and perhaps the color of his skin were not as easily to discern. Perhaps London didn't see how pale David went at the mention of his brother. His tongue flicked over dry lips and the only words that could come were, "You didn't."

"Yes, I did!" London's voice rose and he slammed both hands back against the wall, his head tipped back as well, his chest heaved as he was becoming more furious by the second. "What are you going to do about it, David? Go and cry to your mum? Everyone believes that being around you is going to fix me, well, I fixed your brother." He chuckled. Light green eyes glancing at the door and the thought of bursting through it was there. Eyes flickered back to the small window that kept him from David; the silhouette all that was visible to London.

His head bowed as shoulders lifted on a slowly drawn in breath. London couldn't know about the tightening in David's chest at those words spat at him. His own world was blurring as the moments passed. "They care about you, London." Another thought went through his mind unspoken, I care about you. He couldn't let that part out. Not here, not anywhere. Never. His teeth caught his lower lip again, words chosen carefully in spite of the rising emotions inside. Surely London was lying. He hadn't really done anything with his brother. Had he? "My brother would have told me if you .." He swallowed down the lump in his throat. ".. had done anything like that with him."

"Care about me. Yes, they care about me, so much that they want me to go see all these doctors to correct my problem, as they see it. To stop being around my friends, Sebastian, Tia, all of them, because they really believe that if I stop all of it, I can be normal.. What is normal?" London hissed a breath through his clenched teeth. His body pushed away from the wall and he moved toward the door instead, his forehead resting against it. "You think he would have told you? David, around here, they all want to hide the truth. How is he any different?" Of course London never recalled a time that he spoke two words to David's brother, but at this very moment, he was about to try anything to get David to open the door. "He loved it, David. Loved every second of it." His knee nudged at the door and his head turned to glance back at David. "Open the door. I can show you just what I did to him."

No movement for long moments. That what initially happened after the silence fell between them, David's eyes closed tightly trying to shut down the image of London doing intimate things with his brother. David was not aware of how tightly his fingers clenched the book in his lap. Why his brother? Why?! As hard as he tried to not witness it, he could not keep the idea from playing out in his head. What was it about his brother that had drawn London's eye? Why had not he known? Another shortcoming, it seemed, where David did not measure up in comparison to his older brother. David did not realize he'd let go of the book he'd been holding until he heard the thud of it hitting the old wooden floor. Eyes went down but he didn't see it. He saw other things instead. David shoved himself from the confessional in a flurry of sudden energy. He couldn't breathe in there anymore. London got his wish. David kicked the chair away from holding the door shut, jerked the door open and let his fist fly blindly.

The sudden thud sound from the other confessional had London tilting to the side, trying to get a better look through the mesh, brows creased close together. "What are you doing? Open the damn door!" But in most cases such as these, London was not aware that David could move so fast, had he pushed the final button? Light green eyes went to the door, he heard the chair being either thrown or kicked aside, and he was all about to be smug as the door opened, however, a fist to the face was not expected. It made contact with the side of his head, causing London to stumble back into the confessional and almost falling right over the bench. After the surprise of the actual hit was when London narrowed his eyes and reached out, meaning to grab for David's body in any manner he could, be an arm or even shirt.

David's face did not show satisfaction that he had actually managed to catch London off guard with that blind punch. His complexion was pale, eyes wide almost as if horrified he had actually managed to land the punch. While he watched London stumble back, David shook his hand out to ease the pain of the contact. "Why him? Why?" David should have taken a step back but he wasn't thinking that far ahead. He only wanted answers. He saw the grab coming but reacted too slowly to avoid having fingers curl into his shirt. He threw himself backward to try to jerk free, his own hands getting into the mix to try to get around London's arm.

A slight sting to the side of his face was nothing, the dull throbbing it caused after would be what he would worry about later. Right at the moment, he was far too busy trying to get his hands on David, what he did, keeping him in this confessional, having to speak out about everything like he did, was more hurt than the punch David managed to deliver. A low sound came out of London's parted lips when fingers made contact with David's shirt, and he was not about to let go, not once he did have that contact of the fabric. London felt David jerk back, it had his fingers curling into fists, keeping the shirt within them and he gave a hard pull to get David into the confessional with him and any luck, right at the wall.

He thought he might be able to disentangle himself from London but the jerk from London robbed David of his backward mobility. He stumbled forward, one hand curled around London's wrist while the other flailed out to try to catch hold of the confessional door. Too late on that one too, David sailed toward the rear wall off-balance and unable to stop himself before the wall itself lent a hand. He did manage to turn slightly; grunting when his shoulder hit the rear wall first followed by his temple. There wasn't much room in the confessional for one let alone two. He grappled to try to get himself leverage enough to either get London's hands off him or get himself a good hold on London's own body or clothing.

There came an actual laugh out of London when David made contact with the wall, not caring to realise that the door behind them had shut and making things even more cramped. "I did not touch your brother, but at least you opened the damn door!" London grunted while he also tried to get himself untangled from David, but had that hand on one of his wrists, bodies pushed together and London's foot tried to move around David's and knock him down, being in such a cramp space was causing London to even panic some, however he pushed that feeling aside for his free hand to drift back and fingers curled into a fist for it to go for David's face. Punch for a punch he hoped. "Keeping me locked in here like that.." His voice was not raised but it held just as much malice as if it was.

The buzz of things going through his mind echoed together with the thudding of his own pulse hammering in his ears. David swallowed hard as he twisted and tried to right himself, heavy breathing and a short sound of pain added to the mix. London's laugh hurt. It hurt a lot more than it probably should have. David's eyes widened at the confession. London hadn't done anything with Paul? "Why did you say..." The question was automatic even though London had already given why he'd said it. The question also died when David saw the fist coming. He tried to shield himself but he wasn't in the best of positions to do that. He yelped when London's fist caught his face, David's head jerking to the side from the impact. Eyes already wet from previous moments threatened to spill tears onto his cheeks. Through the ringing in his ears that drowned out the thump of his own racing heartbeat David heard himself grunting, "Sorry .. I'm sorry." He was too, for causing hurt. That had never been the intention but David hadn't planned too far in advance when he'd gotten this bright idea as a way to be able to actually talk to London. It had gone wrong from the moment it had started and now here he was, fighting. Oh god. Don't fight, never fight. Lessons ingrained in him since childhood tried rise up but David was lost in the moment. He tried to shove himself away from the wall, arm flailing wildly. The only motivation now was to hurt London for everything; for the taunting about his brother, for accusing him of being 'put up' to something by London's own father, for London not realizing what David thought was obvious.

In most cases, London would have pulled his hand back and hated the feeling that he got as his fist made contact with someone's face, however, in this case, London was laughing again, that his fist hit David's face and had David's head jerking to the side. David deserved it, in London's mind, that also David was the first to throw a punch. But then words of apologies, which had London stumbling back against the door, trying to keep his body away from the arm flying through the air. London's own arms were up in the air, attempting to push away at David's arm and then fumbled with the door to get it open, but his attention was so much on David that each time he had the grasp of the doorknob he looked back at David and fumbled again. "Stop! Stop it! David, stop." The apology from David had London more aware of what was happening, that he needed to either get the hell out or calm David down. "Damn." His hand lifted to the side of his head, now his head started to ache. "Cut it out!" London's foot kicked at David, anything to get him to back off.

His head was thrumming from the hit and he could feel the light trickle of blood at his lip. David's tongue swept over his lips as he struggled with London. There really wasn't much room to move although he wasn't consciously aware of that. Stop it .. he heard that in a variety of voices inside his head from his parents to his teachers to the priests. He didn't want to stop it but the desire to hurt London was fading. David's cheeks were wet, slender body twisting as if he were going to try to strike London again. London moving back was a good thing, David managed to push himself up so he was leaning against the back wall. David grunted when London's foot collided with him, the instinctive bend causing a crack of his head on the wall when he leaned too far over. He rested there then, forehead on the wall and eyes closed. God he was going to be in such trouble. And now London hated him too. Could this day get any worse? His shoulders sagged, fingers curling first into a fist then flattening out against the wall. His jealousy was spent, his energy flowed from him and left him unable to fight back anymore. Shame set in then. David had acted poorly and without thought and the realization set how poorly. He sucked in a breath to try to regain his control. Oh god, he didn't want London to see him like this. Through lips already starting to swell at the corner of his mouth, he murmured again, "I'm sorry."

Narrowed light green eyes stayed on David, and he saw the twist and grunted, more resting his hand against his head. "Hit me again and I will really beat you senselessly." Though, the throbbing in his own head and the hazy film like sight he had London knowing that really, if David tried to get at him again, London would have to gather more energy for it, since he was spent as it was. "You hit harder than you look." Grumbled with a breath as London slid down the door and came to sitting down, eyes closing as he exhaled deeply. His eyes became half-lidded as he looked toward David again and cringed, great, now his parents would probably be after London as well. "Why did you keep me in here?" That riled London up some again, though the only energy he had, was enough to kick at David's leg again. "The hell is wrong with you?"

David opened his eyes to let his gaze wander over to London when the threat came. He would deserve it if London did decide to wail on him some more. David's cheeks burnt with the shame of the moment and he turned his head away so London couldn't see. How could he answer the questions? How could he actually say what he had planned on saying? He shook his head. He didn't move away from the kick that nudged his leg a little. "I dunno." Just swallow the truth and keep on being what they wanted; it would be better that way, right? He didn't mean to vocalize his next thought, "You're strong too, London." He didn't mean physical strength but maybe it was easier to let London think so. Lips pressed together, fingers inspected the wound caused by London's initial punch back.

"Obviously." Spat out without much care, London climbed up to his feet and kept pressed back for the door. He kept his eyes on David, just because he was sitting there as if he was far too tired to come hitting at London, did not mean he might not try. Better to be safe than sorry. "Next time if you want to hit me, give me some warning and we can have a fair fight. And do not ever think I am going to get locked in here again. I do not know what you were up to but this was .." London sighed and leaned forward, hand held out for David, not that he had to lean too far, they might as well already be on top of one another in the cramped space. "Get up. I did not hit you that hard, not even close. Come on. I am sorry as well. I should not have said that about your brother."

He swallowed again, the sting of London's tone adding salt to the moment. David sighed and just listened to London speak, blinking back things and trying to regain control of himself. He used the action of inspecting his split lip as an excuse. His hand was already up there so a quick swipe over each cheek might not be noticed. Only after his hand fell to his side did he turn his face toward London. David blinked several times trying to put things back in order inside his own confused mind. Eyes darted to London's hand then up to London, hand sliding into London's after a moments hesitation. He gave a nod as he pulled himself up using London's help. "Yeah. Sorry about the um .. this."

Fingers curled around David's hand once he placed it there, good pull to help David get on his feet. London shook his head as he looked at David. "Your parents are going to kill me." His eyes examined over the cuts and bruises that were going to start forming, David had hit him at the side of his head, so the knot would not be visible to everyone. "You can tell them whatever you like. I really cannot give a damn right now. Everyone in town talks about me as it is, I am always starting fights, so, tell them I started it." London's lips turned into a smile and he even chuckled. "Tell them I tried to kiss you and when you would not kiss me back, I hit you. That will really get you praise."

David's grip didn't initially let go of London's hand even once he was on his feet. The cramped space did not leave much room between them. He endured the scrutiny only because he had no place to politely withdraw to, the door was on the other side of London. His voice seemed leaden when he spoke, dull and flat. "I'm not going to get you in trouble, London. This was my fault."

"Well, let us make it my fault." London murmured and hardly gave notice that their hands were still held together, instead his other hand was up and grabbed the back of David's head. Sometimes cramped spaces were a help of sorts. With his hand on the back of David's head, he moved in close and had David's face meet with his own, lips making contact with the other pair of lips. London fully expected David to jerk away, hit him, or give him a push back. But in all, he figured this would be due reason to say that it happened just as London said, he would kiss David, David would hit him and London hit him back, end of story. David could go on and be the happy good boy, London could go off and continue with his own blossoming reputation for being nothing short of perverse.

He could hardly focus on what London was saying, David's attention was more on the feel of London's hand around his own. The words were barely processed before there was another touch followed by a sort of tug and then lips. A surprised breath came and went, audible. It wasn't how he had meant to get here but here is where David found himself. His eyes closed tight at the touch of lips on his own. Unfortunately London didn't exactly get what he wanted. David didn't jerk back and try to hit him. Imagination took over where lack of experience ended. A little lean inward, a slight tip of his head to get just a little more comfortable in the kiss. It was nice to let the seconds pass in that more pleasant contact with London. But it couldn't last. Something occurred to David. London didn't want to kiss him, it was like he said trying to make the story he'd proposed be real. David's eyes popped open and a breath sucked inward as his cheeks flushed red. He shook his head with a whisper, "I don't want you in trouble for me."

That David did not pull away or did anything other than get more into the kiss surprised London, but London was hardly pulling away either. The soft breath between them and the parting of lips to deepen the kiss, London settled into the moment and found himself enjoying this kiss more than he had expected as well. When David separated their lips to speak, London leaned his head back and exhaled, eyes opening to give David a careful glance. "David.." London's tongue swiped over his bottom lip and tasted the lasting flavour that the kiss left on him. Another deep breath and London never did move his hand from the back of David's hair, where his fingers curled into the strands and his eyes all but searched for something more in David's own eyes. London's lips parted, as if he was to say something else, but instead, his lips were meeting for David's again.

There was plenty in David's eyes to be seen. It had been there before but held in check by lowered gaze or head tipped away. Now it was hard to avoid and was an open book to be read by London; all the want, longing and caring right there in his own pale brown eyes. Unbidden a phrase flickered through his head. '..And lead me not into temptation but deliver me from evil.' David felt the fingers in his hair and forcibly rejected the scripture from his mind the moment the second touch of London's lips against his occurred. He had better things to occupy himself with, like returning the kiss he had been wanting for so long.

The day had been a good one and had involved a number of wonderful activities ranging from skinny-dipping in the lake, holding each other, London tossing David into the water, kissing (of course) and even a little food fight on the pier as they ate sandwiches. Who knew a grape could hurt so much when tossed at close range? It was one of those days where nothing could go wrong. London had not said the words 'I love you' to David but that did not mean he was without expressing it through touch, looks, embraces and kisses. When the sun started to set, London found himself reveling in the day. He had found real relaxation while with David and David seemed to echo the same back; the joy of getting to know each other and accept each other and explore each other. London never thought there could be days like these; perfection that could not be improved upon in any fashion by any leap of the imagination. After the sun finally gave up her hold on the day, London got a good hold on David, tossed him up over his shoulder and carted him back to the guest house. David laughed all the way to the house, one hand resting on London's rear and fingers gripping a little bit as he was carried inside the house.

London paraded David through the house and set him on the bed. David scooted onto the bed and got himself comfortable, watching London climb in next to him and settle in close. London's light green eyes rested on David's face as his hand moved to gently caress David's cheek. David's fingers sought out London for touch once he was close enough to reach. The room was dimly lit by the candles scattered about the room, it flickered and gave that eerie glow but also was making David look simply angelic to London. "I had a wonderful day with you, David. Have to sneak you away from your house more often." London whispered his words with a smile then leaned over to press his lips to David's forehead.

He tipped his face into London's touch, eyes closing for a moment. "I agree. It has been a wonderful day, London. Sneaking out is nice." David's eyes traveled the curve of London's lips as they curved into a smile. The sigh brought David's attention back to London's eyes and found London intently watching him. "I love being with you, London. You make me feel so alive." David's head turned enough so he could capture London's fingers with his lips, a little nibble on fingertips. David loved all the little touches in between the great times when they were joined. They were just as special to David. His own fingers moved to inspect the curve of London's jaw, up to his hair and then down along his ear. He gave London's earlobe a little tug. "I can't wait for this to be the way it is always, just us and no care in the world about anyone else."

London chuckled that his ear was given a tug. "I want to take you away from here and we will go somewhere they can never touch us." Whispered with a smile. The sweet talk about going away together, whispers that never failed to bring happy nuances to David's already pleased face. London knew that David loved that idea, which he clung to the promise that one day they would walk out of here hand in hand and that nobody could do anything about it. London's smile was there, that one that caused dimples to appear, even reaching up to his eyes, a smile that was hardly ever seen. Most of London's friends were soon realising that David was the one that could get that smile from London, which it was obvious how London and David felt. London never expected to hide it from his friends, after all, they knew him all too well. London's fingers moved back to those lips and gave David's bottom lip a little tap. "You are far too beautiful, do you know that?"

The compliment caused red to rise to his cheeks. "You're biased." He chuckled and tried to nip that tapping finger, tongue swiping to try to give a lick before the finger was gone. David snuggled in closer to London. Those dimples were a treat and it was a special joy to see them appear so often.

"I am not biased, I thought you were beautiful before I was having you." Light green eyes glanced over David's face, how the light from the candles had his face almost glowing and shadowed in such a way that it all but took his breath from him. "I want to paint you. Hang your portraits all over the walls so I can see you whenever I miss you."

"Paint me, hmm? Hang me everywhere?" He was flattered and frightened at the thought of London painting him. He wanted London to have something permanent of him to keep with London when they were parted. But oh, what if someone saw it? He knew that London painted a lot of people but it was his own personal paranoia that had him assuming everyone would know about them.

London laughed and nodded to the questions. "Yes, paint you and have your picture up on the wall, right here in the bedroom where I can see it every night that I miss you, well, and do other things while looking at it." Brows lifted as his voice set in for a teasing one and expected David's cheeks to get even more flushed. London rested his face there next to David's and was enjoying lips on lips as they continued to speak.

That flush was even visible in the candlelight, the idea of London doing things to himself while looking at a picture of David had David all flustered for a moment. London laughed and moved himself over, that way he could get his lips against David's, a gentle press before he rested his forehead to David's. "Think you could try and get them to let you stay with me tonight? I do not want to take you home, want you to be right here with me all night again." London's hand moved down David's body, fingertips caressing at his side and hip. "I have trouble sleeping without you now, can you believe that?" Grinning as he lifted his chin to get another press of lips with David. "Sleep so much better with you in my arms."

The stray thoughts about who might see those paintings faded under the incoming distraction of lips. London's lips against his, soft and sweet and gentle. "They're not home. They have a three day planned to visit my father's parents." He nibbled his lip. "I could give a call so they know I'm here instead of there but .. I think I'd rather blame them not knowing on a faulty voice mail system somewhere between here and there." He didn't want to leave either and demonstrated this by meeting that press of lips with his own insistent kiss, tongue even flicking into the moment briefly as punctuation to his desire to stay. "I would much rather be here than by myself in a large, lonely house." His smile grew. "I would much rather be here than anywhere else."

"Not home, that is just fine by me. You can stay here as long as you like, in fact I may not even let you leave." Murmured against David's lips, he lifted his chin for the kiss and breathed David in before resting his head back, light green eyes opening. It never ceased to amaze London, that he could look at David's face and find that his heart started to beat faster, his fingers twitched at the thought of even touching David. London had to be careful, there were times that he thought recklessly, that if he could just get David out of there now, they could find somewhere to hide out until their parents had no legal rights over them. But making it like that for David, that is what stopped London, he did not want to make things that much more difficult for David. Soft sigh escaped London as he reached up to touch David's cheek again. "I keep thinking about leaving here." Came a whisper. "I want to do it soon, though I know we cannot."

Stay as long as he liked. Well, he knew he would have to go back to his parents at some point but for the time being, David decided to pretend that he didn't have to be anywhere but right here in London's arms. The feel of London's lips against his while they spoke was the nectar that made everything else worthwhile. "Not let me leave?" A little fun had to be included in the conversation. "How can you do that, hmm? Of course, you're presuming I want to leave." Okay so he couldn't even pretend he wanted to go with any amount of conviction. Leaving here, a topic David was often contemplating himself. "I want to do it as soon as we can." Another rise of color to his cheeks. "I've taken to counting the days. There are so many but it's easier when each day it's one day closer to our departure." David moved closer yet, a hand pushing at London's shoulder as if to try to get London on his back. Even as he did this, David nuzzled into London in order to steal a kiss although he didn't expect too much resistance. "You and me, London. Things do have a way of working out, don't they?" He didn't have the courage to thank god for London because quite honestly he didn't want to draw any celestial attention to the two of them.

David was still indoctrinated enough that a part of him questioning his own feelings but the greater part of him argued that love was not wrong and yes, he was certain it was love he felt for London. It was the cross any depths, climb any heights, and conquer any obstacle sort of love. It was the lay down his life sort of love. The feel it in the very fiber of his innermost being that live was not worth living without London right there with him. How can feelings like that be 'wrong'? He didn't choose to argue with his parents; he swallowed what they said and then went on his way loving where his heart went and his heart had gone to London a long time ago.

?London Demery, age seventeen. Session Fourteen. London, tell me why you are here today? Why did you call me and set up a session yourself??

?I suppose that it has to do with my Father. And the way that my Mother looks at me.? A breath followed after the voice of a young man.

?All right, London. I understand. Now, if you want to talk, I will of course listen to you, I?m here to help you to the best of my abilities. Where would you like to begin?? Soft rustling of papers.

?Since I was a little kid, my parents always tried to tell me to go and be like the other kids. Go outside and have fun and do what kids do, I just never did. I remember one time, my Father put me on a bike, had those training wheels off and he gave me a hard push to send me down the road, of course I fell over and skinned my knees. The thing about it that scared him, was that I did not cry, instead I stared at my knees and actually marveled at how the trickling of blood was such a contrast of colours against my skin. I believe that was the start of them acting as if something was wrong with me.?

?Do you believe there is something wrong with you, London??

Deep inhale of breath. ?No. I believe I am what I am. I bleed, I can die, I can feel emotions, perhaps not to the extent that you can, or others can. I hardly feel anything unless it is extreme pain, I suppose I am different, not that something is wrong. Just different.?

?London, tell me more about not being able to feel anything but pain??

?I have a strong threshold for pain. Takes a lot to even feel that at times and when I do, I feel alive. I can feel other things, just not as well.?

?Does that scare you, London??

?No. What scares me is when I feel those other things. Because then that is what is not normal for me. Not going to sit here and tell you that I am some tragic poor bloke that wants pain to feel. I actually need it. Not just want, but need. Perhaps it is you, and everyone else that has it wrong, that need of perfection, and needing to have everything fit into place. Why not just let things happen? You cannot control anything but yourself and I have come to find out, I hardly even have control over myself.?

?Is there anything else that scares you??

?Yes. That one day, not even pain will be felt. That I will be numb to everything and everyone, then what? I think about my friends, how I do care for them. I worry about them, because they worry about me. But, I always stay back, I sort of keep my distance to a point, and sometimes I know it hurts them that I do not talk to them about everything.?

?Anything else, London??

?No. Nothing else truly scares me.?

?How are you handling being in a car again? Do you still have panic attacks??

A short laugh. ?I let Sebastian drive me around a few times. If I can deal with his driving, I believe I can deal with just about anything that has to do with a car.?

?London, do you feel happiness??

?Sometimes. When I am with my friends and not feeling like I have to pretend to be someone else, yes, I believe that is when I am feeling happy. Painting, that is another way that I let everything out, I cannot thank Katie enough for helping me with that. I have good friends, good family, even though my family does not understand me, but then, I hear that from my friends as well, parents truly not understanding.?

?The other people in town, do they still treat you differently??

?Yes. I believe they always will, and that is all right, they can feel how they do about me, I will not attempt to change their minds, it is a pointless endeavour. I was told that people fear what they do not understand.?

?Who is that told you that, London??

?My Father.?

?You had a talk with him about it??

?Yes, he sat me down and told me to start acting normal or he would disown me. That people are afraid of what they do not understand or cannot understand. If I would just try harder to be normal, everything would be all right. I could tell by the way he looked at me, it was a lie. It is not to make everything all right for me, it is to make everything all right for everyone else. I am done talking.?

?London, thank you for coming to see me, I hope that you decide to continue our sessions. End Session Fourteen.?